


Advanced God Complex and Hyperrealistic Simulation

by BrittaUnfiltered



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Gen, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 18:44:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1315315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrittaUnfiltered/pseuds/BrittaUnfiltered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Another Fic for the First Meme Series from Tumblr.</p>
<p>Broken into two parts so I could finish it/upload faster.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Advanced God Complex and Hyperrealistic Simulation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AbedCoolCoolCoolNadir](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=AbedCoolCoolCoolNadir).



> Another Fic for the First Meme Series from Tumblr.
> 
> Broken into two parts so I could finish it/upload faster.

Professor Duncan found himself seduced by his favorite mistress. Full bodied, red, sweet at first, leaving a bitter taste upon his lips. He did enjoy a tall glass of red wine to relax after a troublesome day of teaching a class full of nitwits.

Today had been especially difficult due to the lovely appearance of an angry parent blaming him for his 'lousy' teaching instead of criticizing her son's inability to grasp the simple logic that is basic psychology. Heck, the student was a high schooler taking college credit courses, the idiot should have been an immaculate genius.

To be yelled such vulgar obscenities when Duncan was not at fault, ruffled the British man's metaphorical feathers. He remembered how when he grew up, when children came home with bad grades, it was simply because the child didn't try hard enough. A firm hand to the bum and a night of studying later, the kid would come into class knowing all the answers to the SATs. Now when a child comes home with an inadequate mark, the parents places all fault with the teacher. It's 'the curriculum is too hard' or 'You're out to get my kid'. The answer was always no.

Usually the little snort nosed brat wouldn't pay attention in class, fiddling around with that god awful smart phone. Ironically the phone never made that airhead smart.

May the queen have mercy on the American Education System.

Taking a swig from his glass, Duncan reminisced at the poor women's attempt to insult him. Her banshee screeches of 'Wanker' and 'Bugger' almost made him laugh into her redden, sweaty face. Did this lady even know what she was saying because it sounded like she watched a few too many British soaps. But nonetheless, the professor stood before the menacing mother and took every poorly constructed insult without wincing.

“I will never understand this insane country,” Ian muttered into his beverage, downing half of it's contents.

The bittersweet liquid never gave him the buzz he so desperately wanted but it warmed his soul. Having been an alcoholic in the past, his tolerance made it difficult for him to achieve physical and mental bliss in this wretched college. He could switch from wine to scotch but why? Scotch was a Winger drink, used only in pretentious social occasions. Anyone who sipped away at that was trying to project the idea of a sophisticated old sport but really came off as compensating for masculinity issues.

Traveling to his own nirvana, Duncan slumped into his fibble desk chair. It wobbled and lacked the necessary padding to be considered comfortable but at the moment, it'd do. His eyelids fluttered, becoming heavy. He could really use a snooze but he had papers to grade. Without further debate, Professor Duncan nodded off to luxurious sleep.

He dreamed of being back in England with a house overshadowing the shore. Isolated so the destructive nature of society could not touch his utopia.

In the morning, he'd take the Scottish dog out for a walk before coming back home to his lovely wife cooking a healthy breakfast. The blonde, blue eyed beauty would set the table with pancakes, orange juice and eggs even if she, herself did not eat them. Duncan would kiss her delicately on the cheek before taking his seat at the head of the table. While reading the newspaper for anything worthwhile, his toddler son would stumble into the room, rubbing his eyes. Usually the little champ would comment on a innocent dream he had last night or how he loved the smell of his mother's cooking.

“Anything important in the news,” his beloved wife asks, finally taking her place at the family table. Though she had given up on her former anarchist life and settled down into parenthood, she still fancied to know what was going on all over the world. Sometimes Duncan didn't have anything to tell her and other times he lied about the atrocities in hopes that she wouldn't be thrown into a frenzy by the injustices.

“Nothing today, Love,” Ian replied honestly. Today was a perfect day, or at least as close to perfect he could get. It was if the world decided to put away it's nonsense fighting and partook in peace for the time being.

“That's good to hear,” She said with a smile. Turning her attention to her rambunctious child, she aided him in the cutting of his hotcakes. Of course, the little tike protested strongly about how he didn't need help and she hushed him before informing him that it's okay to need help every now and then.

Folding the paper and placing it beside him, he marveled at his loving family. It had taken him several months to woo his wife with his low self-esteem but it was worth it. Breaking eye contact with them, he rubbed away any tears that slipped out.

“Honey?” His wife began when she noticed his silent crying,”Is everything okay?”

With a foolish smile, he nodded not saying a word. He wasn't trying to appear macho in front of his kin but was genuinely too happy to utter a sound.

“Good,” she replied in a peculiarly low voice,”Because we need your help in the study room.”

Duncan furrowed his brow, trying to figure out why his soft spoken wife produced an odd tone. As he observed her, her face starting crack and soon her porcelain skin chipped away. The once lively sapphire eyes were dull and lifeless, sending adrenaline rushing through Ian's blood. Quickly glancing at his son, Duncan had discovered he too met whatever cruel fate his spouse did.

Panicking, Ian backed himself up against the wall when the ground started to quake. The roof began to crack and loosen, dropping debris over the once tranquil scene. The air grew thick with dust and pollution, choking the frightened British man. Covering his nose to breathe, Duncan made his way to the front door but it wouldn't budge. Giving the door a few tackles, he accepted defeat. He could only sit and wait for the crumbling roof above to crush him.

“Duncan, we need you in the study room,” the familiar low voice called, causing Duncan's eyes to spring open.

Back in his office, the rugged law professor stood before him. Jeff Winger, his friend, loomed over the disheveled man before taking a whiff from Duncan's wine glass.

A frown formed on Jeff's face before he repeated himself,”We need your help in the study room.” Taking another sniff from the glass, Jeff continued,”You only drank wine so you should be able to function for this.”

 There was no concern in Jeffery's voice but when was there when it came to Duncan. Jeff Winger was a vain, narcissistic man with obvious daddy issues but he was also Ian's closest friend at this god forsaken college.

Adjusting his posture, Duncan eyed his annoying companion. Like usual, Jeff was dressed in some ridiculously expensive attire. Where he had the funds for such clothes, Duncan hadn't a clue. Greendale didn't pay the professors respectively regardless of their loyalty to the college or experience.

“So can I count on you to help,” The law professor asked while ran his hand through his hair,”I'd understand if you'd want to relax. If given the opportunity to ditch and go home, I would. But Abed said this was really important.”

Abed?

The name made Ian unconsciously gag in disgust. He by no means hated the awkward lad but from the emotional manipulation expressed during his Christmas breakdown, Duncan chose to avoid the student at all costs. Though he was curious as to what silly misadventure he had convinced his friends to endure.

He swore that if those delightful morons kept enabling his behavior, Abed would end up in the Greendale asylum or worse, jail. For what crime, Professor Duncan didn't care to find out.

“Do you at least know what kind of mouse trap I'm walking into?” Duncan groaned, reaching for his empty wine glass. He knew that being under the influence around students would give him a strike on his record but like hell he was going to engage that movie maniac sober.

“No one knows,” Jeff quickly pulled the cup away before Duncan's fingers could lightly touch it's cold surface,”Oh no you don't. We need you sober-ish for this. You may not be the best psychologist but you're probably the least insane person here.”

A true compliment. Greendale Community College had a way of engulfing it's hosts in a bubble on insanity, slowly consuming any ounce of intelligence, decency and individuality. The idea would have been publishable but no one would care about this piss-poor school. The books just wouldn't sell unless a celebrity attended here or there was a mass killing.

Which could be arranged if Abed lost his marbles again.

“Oh alright,” A roll of the eyes was all Jeff needed before setting off in the direction of his gullible friends. Duncan knew protesting would get him no where so he silently followed the towering man until they reached the closed glass doors.

Expecting some asinine scene complete with badly painted backdrops, tiny toy figures and ominous musical scores blasting in the mist, Professor Duncan was greatly disappointed. Aside from a few weird gadgets on the table, nothing had changed.

Was this another imagination journey?

“Professor?” A bemused voice called out to him. Turning his head to face the suitor, he felt his face flush. It was Britta Perry, his favorite pupil. Not that he was allowed to have favorites but she was the only one willing to show up to the class with the textbook.

“What are you doing here?” She fired off another question.

Ian could only stutter since his attention was place elsewhere. He admired her feminine features and her delicate yet curvy frame hidden under one of her hideous urban outfitters shirt. At least this one was just a solid colour instead of some whacky design or lyrical quote by some pseudo-philosopher.

“Um,” The embarrassed Brit quickly turned to Jeff, who stood there soaking in Duncan's humiliation, and quickly explained,”Jeff, bless his heart, got me to help with your little _problem_.”

Emphasizing on 'problem', his eyes met the disturbed Palestine man typing away furiously at his laptop. Per usual, Abed didn't break contact with whatever he was distracted with to greet his guest. Ian could only comment to himself about the student's terrible manners. Any negative notion that Abed was a menace to society would only be met with denial and ass kissing from his protective _family_.

“Oooh,” The high pitched coo from the intimating African American woman caught Duncan's attention,”It's nice that you stopped by. Sorry to have bothered you. It's just that Abed asked for you especially.” Her voice once laced with sickly sweet motives changed to a sassier deepened tone,”It's not like we're always there for him. Why he gone asked for you confuses me but only God knows.”

Ignoring her passive aggressive comments, Duncan turned to the brain of the moronic group. Annie Edison was the model student who could have gone to any Ivy League college she desired, so why she chose to attend this dump was beyond all logical thought.

“Do you know what's going on?” Duncan sighed, hoping someone aside from evil genius over there knew the go-to plan.

“Um,” Annie sat up in her wooden chair and instinctively grabbed a purple pen,”No one really knows. And Abed won't tell anyone.”

“Yes,” Jeff Winger sat down lazily at the head of the group table,”Abed won't talk but he still called us here. Now, Abed is a smart guy who knows my Fridays are reserved for going on dates. So with that said, this must be really important.”

There was no malice or anger in Jeff's voice but the sarcasm was thickly laid on more than usual. Stealing a peek from Britta in his peripheral vision, she scoffed and crossed her arms. Trouble in paradise was none of Duncan's concern but he still found pleasure in the thought of winning her affection away from Winger.

On cue, as if waiting for everyone to make casual exchanges, Abed ceased his typing and stood up. A cardboard box containing small black arm cuffs and goofy hats laid beside him.

“I've called you all here to help me with something,” Abed announced the obvious to his peers,”For now I'll ask if each and every one of you could take a hat and arm band.”

Blindly obliging, people lined up to attached the peculiar accessories to their bodies. When secured onto Duncan's arm, the black cuffed made a noise that resembled a mechanism locking. Not one to question such a small and trivial article, he reached for a hat. It looked cheaply made from paper-mache, pipe cleaners, a few bed springs and what smelled like nontoxic washable paint.

“Okay,” Jeffery Winger scoffed with annoyance,”We're wearing your dumb things now lets get this over with before anyone sees me in this.”

“Fine,” Abed replied monotonely, tilting his head,”I recently got into this video game and I wanted to see if video game tropes could be applied in the real world.”

 Everyone looked around or at each other. This was a new experience for each of them. When Abed experimented with tropes, he rarely involved other people and when he did, he apologized for it. To the group, this was Abed trying to express himself without Troy whereas Duncan believed the crazy man was acting out. 

“The game is simple,” Abed looked at the wall, not making eye contact with anyone,”I'm the player and you are my characters.” Abed gestured to his laptop,”I'll give you commands and you'll fulfill them. You'll do this until the game ends.”

Duncan furrowed his brow at the delusional man-child. Did Abed honesty believe people would indulge in his childish games? Especially one that required them to follow his every whim.

“Abed, we're not doing that,” Jeff pulled the blue paper-mache hat off his head,”I thought this was serious. My date is starting in an hour so I can't play immature games with you.”

Slowly, to build up tension, Abed pressed a button on his laptop and Duncan dropped to the floor screaming. The smell of sheared flesh drifted into his nostrils while his body spasmed in agony. The blood curling screams echoed in the library until the burning faded. Unable to move, Ian laid on the ground trying to catch his breath.

Everyone looked onto Duncan with fear in their eyes. Some covering their mouth in sheer shock while others resisted the urge to wet their pants. Annie was the first to speak, laughing the horrific scene off as some sort of sick joke but Abed didn't give her the satisfaction of a reply. When it was confirmed that he was serious, Shirley dropped to her knees whispering prayers for her, her family and the rest of the group.

“He's not dead but he will be unconscious for a while. As I was saying,” Abed continued in his cold emotionless voice. There was no change in his appearance. He just stood there like he would any other occasion,”The rules are simple: I sent you a text with instructions and you do it. Failure to do so will result in painful shock delivered from the arm band. They don't unlock unless I disable them and yes, they are waterproof. Though it wouldn't be smart to get them wet. Conduction and all that jazz.”

“And how would you know If we di-,” Britta tried asking in a cracked voice when Abed raised his hand, signaling for her to stop.

“I implanted trackers in you a while ago and I found the hidden surveillance cameras the Vice President left when he skipped out on visiting Greendale. Finding them wasn't hard but the tricky part of rerouting the video feed to my computer,” Abed explained to his scared audience.

Speechless, they gawked in fear. Abed Nadir, their close and at most times logical friend was threatening to inflict pain on them. From Duncan's current state, the shock would most likely stop their hearts for a few second or leave them with temporary brain damage. No one had to say it but the group was happy that Ian was shocked instead of them.

“My first orders,” Abed sat back down to type on his computer. At the sight of Abed reaching for the keyboard, screams and gasps filled the air. Britta flinched and Shirley sobbed harder, stopping only when they realized Abed wasn't going to administer punishment. “Annie,” He pointed to the tearful brunette holding her notebook for dear life,”I want you to go to the North Hall and complete all of your homework.”

The request seemed out of place for a moment like this but without questioning, she grabbed her belongings and ran in the direction of Greendale's North Hall.

“Shirley,”Abed directed his attention to the whimpering Christian,”I have arranged a business meeting for you. Your task is to razzle-dazzle them. Convince them to invest in Shirley's sandwiches.”

The God fearing woman dared not to speak but looked at Abed in confusion. Shirley's Sandwiches was a financial failure. No business man in his right mind would invest in such a hare brain idea when the evidence showed it'd fail again. And even if she were to go to this meeting, how would she impress them without preparation? She didn't have samples or a presentation ready.

Sensing her hesitation, Abed took out his cellphone and quickly texted her. Cautiously, she reached for her mobile phone and read his message. It was details informing her that she was to arrive in room 304 within fifteen minutes. After processing the crazy plan, she finally set off in the direction of her disastrous meeting.

Waiting a few moments for the tension to lighten, Abed pointed to Britta and Jeff, making Britta flinch again. She had read about how a change in routine could drive a person insane but she hadn't expected Abed to inflict harm on the people he cared about.

“Your jobs are simple,” He smiled briefly then dug around in his cardboard box for what happened to be knitting needles and yarn,”Both of you will go to the mess hall. Jeff, you will eat a piece of today's special pie and Britta, you will knit a sweater for your cat. You guys will make idle chit-chat until I text you more information. Got it?”

Gaining the courage to protest against their corrupt friend, Jeff stepped forward shielding Britta,”These demands don't make any sense. You don't have to force us to do this.”

“True,” Abed nodded in agreement before handing Jeff the kitting supplies,”But based on agency and free will, I'm not forcing you to do anything. I'm merely influence your decision. You can this choose to disobey my orders but you will be shocked.”

“Fine,” Jeff glared at Abed with immense animosity,”But what's going to happen to Duncan? You said he wasn't dead but what does he have to do with this? From the sounds of everything, we're doing trivial tasks from our daily life. Why is Duncan involved? He isn't a part of our group.”

“Spoilers,” He replied expressionlessly,”Now I suggest you hit the cafeteria before they run out of pie.”

Cursing under his breath, Jeff grabbed Britta's hand and darted to the mess hall. He wasn't clear on Abed's motive but he knew that his movie loving peer was one hundred percent serious.

 

 


End file.
